


The Words

by stars28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean can't read, Gen, Sam helps him though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:35:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2398664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean looks at words, they instantly muddle and become unrecognizable. He can't read. Never has been able to. But maybe Sam can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Words

It was no use, no matter how much he blinked and refocused on the page in front of him, the words were still muddled up. Dean glanced up, and found his Dad looking at him expectantly. He looked back at the piece of paper and squinted at it.

"Dean?" His Dad said.

"Yeah Dad?" Dean replied, still squinting at the paper.

"What we dealing with?"

"Err..." He stalled for time, while he tried desperately to understand the words on the page, but that just made them even more tangled, "What do you think?"

"I know," Dad frowned at him, "But I want to know that you do."

_Typical Dad,_  he thought, with a frown.

"I don't know..." He said, a red tinge to his cheeks, ashamed that he couldn't read a few fucking words.  _Fucking words!_

Dad started to explain, but Dean zoned out, focusing on the way he couldn't read words. This wasn't the first time that he couldn't, it had been happening every single time he tried to read. It didn't matter where the words were, on a laptop screen or in a newspaper, the result was the same; Dean couldn't read them because they swam on the page until he couldn't make out letters, let alone words.

* * *

That night, ten minutes after Dean got into his bed - it was a novelty to have his  _own_  bed! - his brother said, "Why didn't you know what you're hunting?"

Dean stared into the darkness above him, thought seriously for a few minutes about telling Sam the truth - that he couldn't read a single word - and said, "Wasn't paying attention Sammy."

"Okay Dean. Night."

"Night."

* * *

"Hey Dad," Dean said as he entered the kitchen, finding his Dad at the table, "What you doing?"

"Reading the paper," Dad replied, "D'you wanna read it?"

He got some cereal out of the cupboard, and poured two bowls - one for Sam when he got up to get ready for school. It would shave a few minutes off the time his brother had to rush for.

"Nah, I'm good." He said, getting his bowl of dry cereal and taking it over to the fridge. He poured milk over the cereal and then sat down with his Dad to eat it.

Five minutes later and Sam came rushing in, his backpack on one shoulder and his shirt half undone. Dean watched as his brother practically inhaled the cereal he'd set out for him, and then put both their bowls in the sink for him to wash up when he got back.

"C'mon Dean! I need a ride!" Sam said, as he put his shoes on.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Dean said, putting his leather jacket on and grabbing the Impala's keys off the side, "Gonna go to the library before I come back. Later Dad."

"Bye Dean." His Dad said as Dean left with his brother.

After Dean had driven to Sam's school and dropped him off, Sam rushing excitedly towards the school, he went to the library. He entered the building, luckily it was on his way back to the rented two-up two-down house, and found that it was almost silent. It was soothing, not that he would ever tell Sam or his Dad that, but it was nonetheless. Smoothly, without breaking his stride, he went round the back of the bookshelves, making his way to the children's books. He grabbed one and slid over to a desk at the back, hidden by the shelves.

Slowly, knowing that no matter how simple the book was, he still wouldn't be able to make out the words, Dean opened the book to its first page. Instantly, the short paragraph swirled into an unrecognizable muddle and he sighed quietly.

Fucking typical. He just wanted to be able to  _read_. Apparently, that too much to ask.

Looking around for a librarian and seeing none, Dean quickly slipped the children's book under his leather jacket and walked out of the building. Once he was outside, the gravity of what he'd just done. Of course, it wasn't the  _first_  time he'd stolen a library book - and he'd bet that it wouldn't be the last either - but it was the first time he'd stolen something that he needed or more like,  _wanted_. Which was a strange sensation.

Dean put the book on the passenger seat, vowing to himself that neither his Dad nor Sam would find it. That would be awkward, explaining to his family that he could read a single  _fucking_  word.

When he got back to the rented accommodation, as he entered the front door he shouted, "Hey Dad!"

As Dean took off his boots and leather jacket, he thought about the book in the Impala's glove box. He'd hidden it, afraid that Sam would find it when he went to pick him up later on. Probably after Dad had got him to do some work.

"Hello Dean." Dad said, as Dean entered the living room.

"What d'you want me to do?" He said, flopping on to the sofa and kicking his feet up on the small coffee table that his Dad wasn't using.

"Well, there's this couple that might have something," His Dad replied, looking up from his journal, other papers spread around him on the other table in the room, "Of course, they don't know they know something, but it'll involve going as an investigator."

Dean smirked, "Hardly the first time we've impersonated someone, is it Dad?"

His Dad laughed, "That's true, but still, you up for it?"

"Sure," Dean smiled, "I'll go and put my suit on."

"Thanks Dean."

* * *

He looked down at the notes he'd made during the interview with the couple and naturally, they were mixed beyond understanding, at least for him. He bet that if he gave this notepad to Sam or Dad, the notes would make sense and they would be able to read them. He wasn't going to lie - he was jealous of their ability to read whatever was put in front of them, especially Sammy.

As he started the Impala, he wondered how he got to being almost twenty-three and being almost -  _completely_  - unable to read. Why hadn't Dad noticed? Why hadn't Sam noticed? That he couldn't read a single goddamn word, whereas Sam, who was four years younger, could read everything put in front of him.

Thinking of Sam, Dean checked his watch - it was almost half past four; time to pick Sam up from school.

As he drove along the street, towards Sam's school, Dean thought about how he'd ended up being able to read. Indicating right after a mile and a half to go into the school parking lot, he thought it might have something to do with the amount of moving he had done when he was younger, moving from school to school. He parked the Impala next to a white, beat up, old Ford truck, waiting until the bell. After about five minutes, the bell rung distantly.

When Dean saw Sam with his backpack on one shoulder, slowly making his way through the crowds that had popped up across the parking lot and the pavement, he smiled. His brother had made his way through another school day.

(But then, Sam could  _read_ , which Dean couldn't  _fucking_ do for the life of him.)

"Hey squirt," Dean said as Sam got in the Impala, backpack sliding on the floor, "How was school?"

Dean reversed the car out of its parking space as his brother answered with enthusiasm, "Dean! It was so cool! We read  _The Hobbit_ in English and I got chosen to read in front of the class!"

"That's cool." Dean replied, while thinking about his inability to read, "What else did you do?"

By the time Sam had stopped talking, they were back at the motel, pulling into the parking lot directly in front of their motel room. Dean could see their Dad looking out of the window at them.

As they got out of the Impala, the glove box popped open, letting the book Dean had put there jump out. He leaned over quickly, before his brother could see what book it was, put it back in the glove box and shut it firmly. He hoped that Sam hadn't noticed, but of course, he had.

"What was that?" Sam asked as Dean got his notebook of  _useless fucking_  notes from the backseat where he'd thrown it earlier.

"Err… Nothing." He lied, gripping his notebook with excessive force. But that was better than letting the truth slip through his lips.

"You're lying Dean," Sam said, over his shoulder as he entered the motel room, "I know you are."

"No I'm not." Dean said again. He shut the door after he'd entered and locked it.

* * *

That night, lying in his bed next to Sam's, Dean thought about how when Dad had given him the task of reading the notes aloud and how he'd failed. Not just failed, he'd failed so miserable that Sam had been told to take over. It was like words had it out for him, because when Sam read the notes out, he could do it with no problem. When Dean had tried, the words were all muddled up and didn't make any sense. He knew he should be able to read by now, but he just couldn't.

"Hey Dean?" Sam whispered, loud in the otherwise silent room.

"What d'you want?" He asked, glancing his brother's way in the dark and wondering what he was going to ask.

"Earlier, when you were attempting to read out the notes…"

Oh God, no. Not this. Not his shameful secret – that he, hunter Dean Winchester, couldn't read a  _fucking_  words.

Sam continued, "You were mumbling something like 'I don't know, all the words are muddled'. Why?"

Dean sighed heavily, there was no way Sam would let this go, it would be easier to just to tell Sam the truth.

"Because…because it's true." He said slowly, gathering the words he needed to say, "When I try to look at words – doesn't matter if they're on a page or a phone – I just can't read them. They muddle in front of me, and I can't read them, no matter how hard I try."

"Oh Dean…why didn't you tell us sooner?" His brother said, sympathetically.

Dean gulped, "Because, by the time I'd realized that it was going to be a major problem, I'd left school and Dad wanted me to help with hunts. I didn't want to bother him with something as pointless as not being able to read."

"It's not pointless Dean!" Sam exclaimed. Dean saw the shape of his younger brother sitting up in bed and listened as he continued, "Even Dad will agree, reading is essential! Everyone's got to be able to read."

"Well, I can't. Ok?" Dean snapped, annoyed at Sam for making this a big deal. He thought he could trust Sam.

"Dean, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" Sam trailed off, but after a few beats of silence, he started again, "I can help you learn to read, if you want?"

And Dean, thinking that maybe this is what he needed, someone to sit down with him and patiently got through muddled up words with him, said, nodding in the dark, "Yes, I'd like that."

"Great. We'll start tomorrow!" Sam said, excitedly.

Dean shook his head, only Sam could sound excited about teaching someone to read.

* * *

A year later, after multiple of patient lessons by Sam and utter perseverance between hunts by Dean (he'd read that book he'd  _borrowed_  from the library), he was reading the newspaper at breakfast. His Dad entered and stopped in his tracks. Dean looked up.

"Yes?"

"I thought you didn't read the newspaper?" Dad said, confusion evident in his tone.

Dean shrugged, "Well, I can always change, can't I?"

His Dad eyed him, like he wasn't quite sure what to think, and then said, "I guess so."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave me a kudos or a comment! They make me day! And they make me smile! :D


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